


Sometimes I Think it's Just for You that I Live and Breathe In

by Heyrrra



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: F/F, I was working while writing so this may not make sense as much?, Inspired by Pygmalion and Galatea (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), but I hope it does, i dont know, jenlisa, maybe yearning? cause Im yearning for Jenlisa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heyrrra/pseuds/Heyrrra
Summary: She's —it's... (Lisa has to correct herself) perfection.Molded by her hands and made perfect by her chiselSometimes, love can be... unmoving, unyielding and coldPerhaps when the feeling is too much, it can be... warm and supple
Relationships: Jennie Kim/Lalisa Manoban | Lisa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	Sometimes I Think it's Just for You that I Live and Breathe In

**Author's Note:**

> Jenlisa as Pygmalion and Galatea because why not?

* * *

* * *

Cold.

She’s —no,  _ it’s  _ cold.

Lisa steps away, the sound of her chisel hitting the ground echoing out into her empty studio. The touch burned. Cold against the warmth of her own skin, a reminder of what  _ could not be. _

For a brief moment an unsettling wave of embarrassment overshadows the guilt. Almost as if it’s strong enough to keep herself from running her hands against the cold alabaster, fingers tracing with want over the curve of smile she has managed to carve into smooth stone.

For a minute it is.

For a minute it keeps her from reaching out, from touching, from feeling, from grazing her fingers softly against the surface of the stone. Trying to understand how her hands sing with a sensation she cannot name. Something she has trouble defining. 

Lisa takes a step back, looking into eyes that, she’s sure, exhibit a certain life to it. A certain kind of warmth calling out to her. 

Taunting, teasing. 

As though it mirrored her stares, and some nights Lisa wished  _ it  _ did. 

Longed to see  _ it  _ look back, hold her gaze as if to challenge Lisa to claims of being her maker. Longed to know what it would feel like to have her gentle eyes fall on her and her alone. She chanced another glance at the creation in front of her, the feeling of guilt heavy inside her chest. It’s there she wonders  _ how.  _ Like the thought itself was sinful. Countless sleepless nights spent on wondering how she created something so close to —perfection. If it weren’t perfection itself. 

She picks up the chisel, carefully running it through the white stone to create the likeness of fabric draped over the sculpture’s head. Like a veil, it falls to the side along with hair she spent hours crafting. Over bare shoulders she knows would have been soft to the touch if it were real. With measured strokes she guides the tool to create ripples, careful not to overdo the strength with which she hammers. A sense of gentleness she didn’t know she had. 

For four days she spent hours smoothing the surface—

Chiseling out creases that shouldn’t be there,

Perfecting the smile on her lips, 

The frozen warmth she captured in her eyes,

Smoothening out her cheeks, thumb barely grazing the roundness of it because she’s afraid; 

Of feelings she does not know the names of, 

Of the want to cradle  _ its  _ face in her hands, hoping to feel warmth instead of stark coldness,

Of the beauty that takes more than just her breath away, 

Of  _ it _ ,

Of Jennie, who is

—not hers, never hers.

Lisa thinks it’s more of a curse than a blessing to have made something like  _ her.  _ Feeling the pain of ripples inside her own heart; silently pleading, wishing to everything sacred known to humankind to give  _ her  _ life.

_ Give her breath and soul and everything in between,  _

Each plea, an added weight to the disgust and desire that builds inside her. Over and over and over. 

Jisoo comes over a couple of days after, wanting to look into the progress of her creation. Of the statue Chaeyoung has commissioned from her a month prior. 

Of  _ her _ .

Of her, and her gentle eyes and soft smile. Of the quiet inner strength that’s mirrored on her gaze, her supple shoulder, of the dimples on her back, of her delicate neck, of —

“You’re not yet done with it?” comes Jisoo’s accusatory tone, 

Lisa merely nods, a lie to cover up the truth that she has  _ it  _ kept. Inside her room, draped over with a cloth to keep her from prying eyes. The same disgust and guilt comes right after to consume her, leaving a bitter taste at the back of her mouth the moment she closes the door at Jisoo’s departure.

_ How selfish,  _

_ How utterly selfish,  _

She thinks over and over to punish herself, mad at the thought of her thinking she has any ownership above  _ it _ . How ugly a thought, she shudders.

_ She  _ belongs to no one but  _ herself.  _

Jennie, Jennie, Jennie

She calls out to the statue.

The mere thought of it brings a certain fire, a rage she was surprised existed inside her. Despising her own self for hiding  _ her _ beauty from the world with a cloth draped over. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry..” She says again and again. Calling out to  _ her,  _ as she pulls the cloth away. 

Revealing beauty,

Revealing what can’t and will never be. 

How hopeless, how pathetic, and yet… 

“I love you.”

The admission no longer surprised her, the truth she spent days and nights denying bubbling over to the surface. The warmth of it centered on her hands as she cupped the statue’s cheeks. With as much tenderness she has with her. Resting her forehead and gazing into Jennie’s eyes. She cries out, again and again,  _ i love you,  _ whispering a final, “I wish the Gods created you, stars molded you, the universe breathed life into you. Not me, never me,” as if in silent surrender to the truth.

It’s here that Lisa finds the strength to give the statue a parting hug, steeling herself at the decision to bring it over to Chaeyoung first thing in the morning. 

It’s here. 

The moment, where she feels warmth instead of coldness. 

Of supple flesh at the curve of her back instead of unyielding alabaster.

It’s stark enough, real enough to the touch that it’s enough to pull Lisa away. 

It’s here she’s met with soft hazel eyes, strong enough to pull her into its gravity where Lisa feels a little too hopeless, a little too breathless and Lisa thinks she has never felt as good as she’d ever been before. 

There’s softness and warmth in  _ her  _ touch as she holds on to Lisa’s wrist, grip tightening to pull her closer until they’re face to face.

“Lisa…”

It’s here that she stumbles to her knees, her whole world tilting on its already skewed up axis, bringing  _ her  _ with her. Falling and falling until there’s nowhere left to fall. Pulled up into a hug she feels the warmth of  _ her  _ breath against her ear,

“Lisa, will you tell me again? Say it to my face.” 

_ Her  _ voice is honey and silk woven into threads that’s keeping her in place, in silence, in a certain sense of disbelief where she listens to  _ her  _ breathe like a child holding on to a fantasy before sleep. 

It’s here that  _ she  _ asks her, pleads her to look at  _ her.  _

Gaze and smile kind, the same unwavering love mirrored—more than enough to have her gasping, “Jennie?”

_ She  _ nods once, tucking stray hairs behind Lisa’s ears and smiling.

Lisa is weak.

“Hi.”  _ she  _ tries out again, voice gentle. As if lulling Lisa to answer back.

"Have I gone mad?" She asks in utter disbelief, to which Jennie shakes her head in negation.

“You’re…”

“Yes.” is all it takes for Lisa to take in a sharp breath, Jennie moving to hold Lisa’s hands against  _ her  _ cheeks where  _ she  _ kisses the skin on Lisa’s palm and smiling against it, tickling the flesh. 

“Will you say it again?”

Lisa is caught off guard yet again, watching her eyelashes flutter, watching her nose scrunch adorably so, watching her… breathe. It’s here that the thought and realization finally settles.

_ She’s alive. _

_ She’s here. _

_ She’s — _

“Here, with me, will you say it again?”

Her stare is eager, hopeful, wanting.

Loving. 

“I love you.” Lisa manages to stutter, “I love you,” she says again, this time firmer. Afraid that Jennie might disappear, might turn back to stone if she were anything but loud about it. 

“Oh how I’ve longed to hear that from you, touch you, caress you as you have caressed me.” She pulls Lisa into another embrace, whispers fervently, as if in prayer. 

Lisa pulls away gently, realizes the situation and gathers the cloth around Jennie. Careful, her touch isn’t seen and felt as harsh. Covering parts of  _ her  _ Lisa already knows.

It’s here she feels her whole self sing, each fiber and nerve inside exploding at the touch of Jennie on her shoulder, hands grazing and touch warm, and Lisa answers with a tentative hold on  _ her  _ waist, supporting  _ her  _ gently and pulling  _ her  _ closer. 

_ No distance _ is still much distance between them. 

Jennie wraps her hands around Lisa’s neck, pulling her close into a kiss that is both gentle and clumsy. Both learning and re-learning each other. Jennie pulls away briefly to smile, kissing her with a kind of intensity, that leaves her breathless. In ways that she hasn’t thought of, of certain sensations she could barely name. 

Jennie pulls away, a bit breathless, “I love you too.” 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Wishing everyone a nice week ♥


End file.
